The First and Last
by gackt groupie
Summary: After having met a precocious boy at a war mongered gathering, Yoshitsugu found himself unable to do anything but follow where he was led, even if after everything would go so wrong. Guh, I don't know, this is a feels dump, ok? I took bits and pieces from actual history, so it doesn't follow that game or anime completely. Warning: it gets dark.


The first time Otani Yoshitsu laid eyes on Mitsunari, he was but a boy accompanying his father to a diplomatic meeting of lords. The child was small, the top of his head barely reaching the breast of Yoshitsugu's horse. He clung to his father's sleeve and glowered up at him. The then cavalry leader stared back, bemused at the dead-pan boredom that was so plain on the boy's face.

"Pay attention little lord," he murmured softly, not wanting to interrupt the negotiations. "it would not do to anger your father, as I'm sure there's a lesson in this." He offered a small smile, which only rewarded him with Mitsunari's scowl deepening. Small fingers fidgeted with the golden fibers of an embroidered sleeve, and his scrutinizing gaze withdrew long enough for him to stare longingly at the lush greenery of the surrounding garden.

Taking pity on the child (and not wanting to risk what could turn out to be a tantrum) Yoshitsugu withdrew one of his prized and expertly crafted meditation orbs from a saddlebag and held it out for him to see. Just as he thought, eyes widened and the little face lit up with what could only be described as _want. _

"Do you want it?" he had whispered, to which Mitsunari nodded fervently. He passed it down to him without another word.

The next time he saw him, the tiny boy had grown into a young warrior, and Yoshitsugu had spotted him amongst the rest of the young and eager recruits to the Toyotomi army. Having climbed the ranks himself, he snatched the young swordsman into his own ranks of 600. He took him under his wing, and through it nurtured the boy into adulthood.

Of course within his first few battles Mitsunari had proven himself a capable leader and fighter, to the point the not only was he noticed by Hideyoshi himself but _favored. _Mitsunari catapulted through the ranks and Yoshitsugu, who never strayed from his side, followed.

Mitsunaro came to adore Toyotomi Hideyoshi his great strength. He consumed his ideals for Japan's unity and peace with the zeal that could only be found within one with still so much untapped youth.

"He's got phoenix fire in him," Hanbei had told him once. "Hideyoshi is fortunate that you're here to keep it burning."

When the days came that his flesh began to rot, growing pustules and slipping from his bones, their bond deepened. His life-long comarades turned on him, afraid of his sickness. The man was lost and alone. For the first time it was Yoshitsugu who needed Mitsunari and the warrior rose to the occasion without complaint or disgust. He sought out the best doctors, and personally supervised as they wrapped him in yard after yard of silk bandages. Sometimes he even washed the putrid flesh. The older man was awash with gratitude for those days, and a mentor's pride became a friend's love. Though, even that could not stop Yoshitsugu's lust for blood from blossuming. He had been scorned, and the constant agony he was now in had reached his most intimate parts. His orbs turned to weapon, and he perfected the art of using them in such a way that they could draw the most blood, cause the most pain so the misery of his enemies could match what he lived with every day. On certain days when the pain was particularly fierce, his perception of friend and foe became warped, and he would attack without prejudice.

And yet, Mitsunari alone was immune. It was only with his charge that Yoshitsugu remained completely lucid. Perhaps it was just as well, for even with his steadfast faith in Hideyoshi, Mitsunari insisted on his own guidance.

The inevitable death of the great lord cemented them. Mitsunari now clung to him, though he was now armed with a blood thirst to match his own. Ieyasu, Masamune, it didn't matter who was destroyed to get Mitsunari's pound of flesh. The disease had driven him half-mad at his point, so Yoshitsugu was only too happy to goad the broken man into battle after battle in his search for revenge. His pride grew as each man fell to Mitsunarie's blade, and through their misery and pain he found strength. It was through his guidance that Mitsunari became as broken and wretched as himself.

Through a shaky alliance with Mori Motonari of Chikoku, he guided the newly named Demon Mitsunari to the source, Ieyasu. At least, it was his charge's chosen path. What warlords remained had gathered, ready for war.

It rained blood that day, and Yoshitsugu rejoiced. For awhile. In the end, the endless stream of battles had proven too much for the both of them and Mitsunari was soundly defeated. Yoshitsugu in a moment of clarity and sheer devotion, carried his battered lord on his own floating palanquin from the battlefield.

He made it to a small village, where he hid the both of them in a barn beside a worn-out ox and a goat. He'd wrapped the man's wounds in the sashes that hung from his palanquin and, having succeeded in coaxing some milk from the goat, fed it to him. Then, for the first time in decades, Yoshitsugu left Mitsunari. For it was his own blood lust that drove him to taint this young boy to such extremes. The boy has saved his life with his loyalty and devotion, only to be manipulated and betrayed by he who he trusted most.

He was a poor excuse for a human being. His lord deserved better.

The last time Yoshitsugu laid eyes on Mitsunari Ishida, he was in what is now called Kyoto and he technically didn't see him at all. Now a lone vagabond, he had traveled there in search of his lord. He wanted to know what had become of him, if he had reached safety. Every soul he asked and pointed him to this location and the leper, now completely blind, never saw the dark gleam in their eyes.

Upon his arrival, he asked about the tea houses and inns for news. It proved fruitless, as none of the benefactors would give him details other than 'the town square'. Frustrated and desperate, he stopped a child he heard passing by.

"Do you know Mitsunari?" he asked, holding out coins as a bribe. The child (a girl, as it sounded) responded yes, she did.

"Could you take me to him?" He offered more coins, enough to feed her family for a month. She took his gloved hand and walked on. They spoke not a word as he followed where she led. As they neared the busy square, the voices of passerby grew louder, the stench of fish and rot offensive. Before long she stopped.

"He's here, my lord," she told him, and before he could stop her she was gone. It was to be expected, and he did not care.

But the stench was unimaginable. He knew that smell. It was how _he _smelled, that earthy and sickening smell of putrid flesh. Dawning came to him and his gut turned sour.

"Oh, Mitsunari…" he whispered, trailing his fingertips over maggoty flesh, retreating when they reached the feel of the splintery pike. Tears welled, though he did not feel them. He could hear the gods laughing at him, drowning him in the misery he had once so wrought upon his enemies.

Though he did not stay long, Yoshitsugu returned to him that night, when all was quiet. He pried his lord's severed head from the pike and spirited away into the night. He buried him amongst the foliage at the riverside, where it smelled of pine and spring blossoms, because he deserved better. Of course, a hap-hazard burial in an unmarked grave by the man who was responsible for him being there was hardly an improvement.

He thought back to the small boy that sat bored at his father's meeting. How after the meeting was over how he had bullied the military man into playing a game of catch with the orb he had so recently bequeathed him.

_My lord, how I've wronged you._

_Utterly mad with the disease that ate his flesh and the grief that ravaged his heart, Yoshitsugu thrust a knife into his gut a mere few days after Mitsunari. He died alone and full of hate in an broken down hovel, long ago abandoned by its previous inhabitants. _

_There is a marker for him and his lord both in Sekigahara, though no one knows how they got there._


End file.
